The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories
- Автор: Adams Cleve F., Babcock Dwight V.
- Год: 2010
- Язык: английский
- Год: A Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
- ISBN: 978-0-307-45543-7
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
Black Mask was the apotheosis of noir. It was the magazine where the first hardboiled detective story, which was written by Carroll John Daly appeared. It was the slum in which such American literary titans like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler got their start, and it was the home of stories with titles like “Murder Is Bad Luck,” “Ten Carets of Lead,” and “Drop Dead Twice.” Collected here is best of the best, the hardest of the hardboiled, and the darkest of the dark of America’s finest crime fiction. This masterpiece collection represents a high watermark of America’s underbelly. Crime writing gets no better than this.
I therefore made some commonplace remark about the scenery while I was still several feet from the pair, and Dawley immediately broke away and busied himself about the car, the color of his face and the set of his jaw showing he was under a great emotional strain; but Dr. Potter was his usual self, quiet, courteous and patient.
Again I found occasion to speculate to myself what it was which could make a man of the refinement of the Doctor maintain such a young boor in his employ. There must be some bond, something which did not appear on the surface to account for the easy tolerance and courteous treatment he gave to one who was very apparently entitled to nothing except an immediate discharge.
It was after dark when we approached the house; but Kimi had the place blazing with lights, and it certainly presented a warm and cheerful aspect. Dinner was served shortly after we arrived, and I was pleased to find myself fully recovered from the shock of the afternoon.
A place was set at the table for Professor Kennedy, but we did not wait for him, and indeed he did not show up during the meal. Kimi had called him twice, and each time the Professor had promised to be right up, and each time had immediately forgotten all about it. Dr. Potter told me it was a frequent occurrence when the chemist was working on some problem for him to neglect to come to his meals, and to even resent the interruption when Kimi would bring his plate to him in the little laboratory he had fixed up.
During the evening my host announced that he had arranged an appointment with one of the best detectives from the office of the Sheriff of Los Angeles. This detective, he further announced, was to arrive on the evening train, and would stay several days, provided he appeared to understand the exact requirements of the situation.
As it was then only an hour before the train was due, it was apparent that arrangements had been made for the presence of the detective several hours previous, if not on some preceding day. It was typical of my friend that he had said nothing of this matter during our earlier conversations, and it was also an indication that there were developments of which I knew nothing which had made my friend feel the presence of a detective necessary.
He turned his keen gaze on my face as he said:
“Don’t think for a minute I am turning this case over to a detective. I am merely taking precautions from a scientific standpoint to make sure that any phenomena I may observe and record, are not of a material and mundane origin.
“I am getting this detective for the same reason that I would perform a delicate physical experiment in a room isolated from sound waves and immune to thermal variations. I wish to eliminate all outside agencies which might form a disturbing element in my experiments.”
I was on the point of replying, but the words never came.
I was sitting, facing the big window which opened from the dining-room on to the spacious front porch. At that hour of the night the window was dark and black; but, even as I looked, a white face, drawn and ghastly, pressed against the pane, the features sharply outlined against the black background, the eyes fastened on the back of my companion’s head in a stare of such intensity that everything else within the vision of the apparition seemed excluded!
A moment the face showed startlingly clear against the plate-glass window, and then, silently and swiftly, it was withdrawn.
The calm tones of Dr. Potter brought me back to earth:
“From the expression on your face, Pearce,” he observed, keenly and evenly, “I should say you had seen something or somebody peering in the window behind me. I noticed the shade had not been lowered when we drove up this evening.
“Have some of these olives. They are particularly good and grown and cured especially for me.
“Kimi, please lower the shades.”
“My Heavens!” I shouted. “How can you sit there and talk in that calm manner! Within ten feet of your back, some prowler has just stared cold, deliberate murder at the back of your head — and you haven’t even turned in your chair!”
“Come, come,” soothed my host, as though he were talking to an excited child, “go on with your dinner. You are getting worked up over a trifle. I knew by the expression of your face that you had a brief glimpse of something at the window, and the natural supposition was that it was the face of some person. I also knew that the face had been withdrawn, and that it would, therefore, do me no good to turn around and look.
“Whoever it was, or what he wants will be disclosed in good time. Personally I do not care very much who or what it is unless it should in some manner interfere with my experiments. Hence the detective. Simply and purely, as I said before, to eliminate the possibility of outside agencies interfering in my research work.
“Speaking of the detective reminds me — By the way, Kimi, I wish you would take the car to the station, where you will meet a Mr. Arthur Dwire, of Los Angeles. He will be looking for you when the train pulls in, and will be staying here tonight, perhaps for several days.”
Kimi, who had lowered the shades, signified his immediate departure, and silently withdrew from the room. As far as I was concerned, however, the meal was a failure. Time after time, I would start, peer over my shoulder, and fancy I had seen a shadow, or the outline of a face just beyond the closed shade. The shade over the window seemed to only partially hide a menace, lurking just within the shadow, and ready to strike. I felt that peculiar sensation which comes over me when someone is watching me.
I was unquestionably a very poor companion. My host, however, with that excellent tact and consideration which had endeared him to me so many times, continued as though nothing had happened, and acted just as though I was my natural self and holding up my end of both conversation and food.
I can’t remember when I have ever been so frankly pleased and relieved to see anyone, as I was to see Mr. Arthur Dwire.
The detective was rather slender, and firmly knit, one of those alert, active men who radiate vigor and vitality. There was an efficiency and competency about him which made him seem capable of meeting and mastering any situation. Quick in his movements and very evidently possessing great agility and vitality, he upset my conception of the modern detective by proving a thorough gentleman, well read and a college graduate.
The speed and accuracy with which he grasped the situation were remarkable. Dr. Potter very briefly outlined the case, showed him the study and “introduced” him to the skeleton. The sight of that grinning skeleton swaying and rattling on the door revived my horror, and I never took my eyes off the hollow eye sockets of the gibbering skull, waiting with bated breath for a repetition of that awful wail, so menacing and blood-curdling.
However, nothing happened, and we returned the skeleton to the inside of the closet by the simple expedient of shutting the closet door, and returned to the living-room.
“Doctor,” remarked Dwire, when our host had given a general summary of the events to date, “either someone is playing a prank on you, or you’re entertaining a spook. Personally, I don’t take much stock in ghosts, but that’s neither here nor there. You’ve got all the scientific education, and if it’s a ghost, you get him; if it’s something else, that’s my meat. The very first thing I want to do is to make a minute search of the house, especially that closet. We may find some interesting things.”
It was with an approving twinkle of the eye the Doctor replied:
“Yes — search, by all means. Devote all day tomorrow to it if you wish. Tonight, however, I wish to try an experiment.